Ever been mad? I don’t mean just grunting, doing a little stomping mad, but really hot under the collar, white knuckled mad? It’s the type of mad that makes the calmest girl want to punch someone (not something, but a living, breathing person). Late Friday night the seed for my anger was planted. It would blossom a few hours later on Saturday.
Friday was Beloved’s 41st birthday. We hired a sitter for the wee girls and our little family went to his favorite ‘fancy’ restaurant, Gustav’s. It was a lovely, lovely time with J and C. Just the four of us dining and laughing. I was reminded again of how blessed I am to be the mother of such amazing young people and the wife of so good a man.
We arrived home and visited with our sitter when the phone rang. It was our most loved niece. She’s the one Beloved grew up with and is honestly more like a sister than a niece, nine years younger than we are. Her call was to inform us that she was safe at another relative’s house and that her boyfriend, Devil in a Devin suit, had assaulted her.
I’m sorry to report that this isn’t the first time that Devil in a Devin suit has beaten the daylights out of her, but for whatever reason, Niece decided she was finished with him. This time the police took pictures, this time she filed a restraining order, this time, she left. Hallelujah!
We headed over the snowy mountain Saturday afternoon to help her pack and load her things. Frankly, she should have just taken her clothes and left Devil in a Devin suit with the rest, but I understand that leaving was (for whatever reason) hard and to leave all of her things would have been giving that rat b@#$!*& more than he deserved.
Her black and purple left eye was the first thing everyone noticed. How could we not? The lump on her eye-brow was sticking out ½ an inch from her head. Earlier she had sent me pictures of her back and side; the purple, blue, and black skin that covered her cracked ribs. I didn’t ask to see them in person. I couldn’t have handled it. I noted that he hadn’t left finger prints on her neck when he was choking her.
At this point, you may be thinking that I was angry with Devil in a Devin suit or perhaps with Niece for staying as long as she has. Alas, it wasn’t so. Certainly I was nail-spittin’ mad at him. Most assuredly I thought of many, many wonderful, tortuous things to do to HIM, yet I wasn’t nearly as angry as I would be moments after arriving.
It was Worm-Tongue Denny, sire of Devil in a Devin suit that truly set my blood pressure pounding. (If you are not familiar with Worm-Tongue read Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers by Tolkien.) For whatever reason Worm-Tongue Denny was walking through the house, giving orders, making comments. I was busily packing up Grand Nephew’s bedroom when he made his appearance before me and do you know what that evil, wretched man said to me?
“This is going to be the worst of it! Packing up this kids stuff!”
He went on to rant and rave about Grand Nephew, while I stood there, incredulous. Were my ears deceiving me or had he just stated that the worst thing that had happened in that house in the last 24-hours was a 13-year-olds messy bedroom? Not to mention, if we are going to discuss the fair and faulty attributes of anyone’s child, shouldn’t we be discussing HIS CHILD? You know the woman beater? The drug addict! The felon?! The one he WATCHED beat Niece up two days before Christmas? The one whose guns he removed from the house before the police arrived? The one he keeps bailing out of jail?
Anger, searing and hot welled up inside me. Those who know me well know that I am a “guns-a-blazin’” kinda girl. I have been known to shoot first and ask questions later. Truth is black and white and I’ll give it to you whether you want it or not. It’s not pretty, but it’s true.
I looked at Worm-Tongue Denny, standing just mere feet from me and said, in a very soft, gentle voice,
“I’m sorry. I have nothing to say to you.”
He blinked. He snorted. Finally he began a rather long and blustery retort explaining that he didn’t have a problem with me (gee, isn’t that swell?) and that it’s their problem, not ours (really? It became my problem when I looked at the purple, swelling eye of a girl I love as if she were my very own flesh). He complained loudly about several things (all of which I ignored) while I stood staring at him in utter silence.
He finally left the room to accost the other family members who were there to rescue our dear girl. Worm-Tongue Denny whispered in Niece’s ear, advising her what to take and what not to take. He murmured that she should be “fair”. He hinted at this and that, all the while my anger seethed within me. Apparently he was pretty ticked as well. His parting comment, said just loud enough for me to hear was, “Tell her to get off her high horse”.
Sadly, I do not own a horse and if I did it couldn’t possibly be very high since I’m kinda on the short side.